


Lights Out

by didipickles



Category: Schitt's Creek
Genre: Blizzards & Snowstorms, Fluff and Smut, Jenga as Foreplay, Light Family Angst, M/M, Post Season 4, Power Outage, Rimming, Talking About Pasts, Tender Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-13
Updated: 2019-10-13
Packaged: 2020-12-14 15:51:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,485
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21018329
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/didipickles/pseuds/didipickles
Summary: While staying alone together at Ray's, the power goes out in the middle of a snowstorm. David and Patrick talk about their pasts, play games, and warm each other up in their favorite way.





	Lights Out

**Author's Note:**

  * In response to a prompt by Anonymous in the [SCFrozenOver](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/SCFrozenOver) collection. 

> **Prompt:**  
A snowstorm has made the power go out. David and Patrick decide to pass the time playing silly games, having serious conversations, and having very tender sex.
> 
> Gigantic shoutout to my beta this-is-not-nothing for making this piece so much better and giving me a title.

With one foot still in the tub, David reached for his towel after a luxurious bath (luxurious in that it was the first bath he'd taken since moving to Schitt's Creek; it was still Ray's bathroom, but David was feeling generous with his descriptors after a fantastic dinner and proper soak). As he pulled the towel off the rack, the world went suddenly and startlingly dark. For a brief alarming moment, David thought he was having the blacked out vision that sometimes came with his panic attacks, but then he realized he could see a bit of darkening sky coming in through the tiny bathroom window. Taking care not to slip and break his neck (or back, or hip - Alexis would have a fucking field day with that one) David swung his other foot out of the tub and wrapped the towel around his waist before opening the door. "Patrick?" he called into the darkness of the landing.

He heard a faraway voice respond, "I'm on it." Good. Patrick would go switch the breaker or break the flipper or whatever he needed to do, and then David would be free to do his after-bath skincare regimen. In the meantime, he toweled himself off and groped for the clothes he brought to sleep in, finally brushing his fingers against his briefs, then quickly finding the soft t-shirt and shorts serving as tonight's pajamas. Patrick teased him at first for wearing shorts to bed in the middle of winter when they both knew David ran cold, but David had demurred, citing his desire for lots of blankets and pointedly _ not _saying how much he liked when Patrick kept him warm.

Several minutes passed while David waited for the lights to come back on. He sat on the edge of the tub, flipping through his phone and wondering why Patrick was taking so long. After another few minutes, David stood and took a few steps into the hallway. “Any time now!” he shouted, and then tapped his foot impatiently as Patrick came into view at the top of the stairs.

“Bad news,” Patrick said, and he had that same ‘sorry but we’re out of that product’ voice he used at the store.

“Mm, nope, I’m not accepting bad news at the moment. I don’t do well in the dark.” 

Patrick’s face softened into an apologetic smile as he closed the distance between them. “The power is out. I looked outside, and it looks like it’s out on the whole block, maybe the whole city. And the forecast made it sound like it isn’t supposed to stop snowing until at least tomorrow night.” A tiny claustrophobic jitter slipped and slid its way down David’s spine. “We might be stuck here.”

Exasperated, David turned back into the bathroom and grabbed his phone to call Stevie, who affirmed what Patrick suspected. The prospect of no power meant David’s cell phone battery was suddenly a precious commodity, and he hung up on Stevie mid-sentence. “Fuck.”

“Yeah, it’s not ideal, but hey. At least we have the whole house, and we aren’t snowed in with Ray, right?” Patrick had a point. Ray had left for a long weekend, although David couldn’t quite remember where he said he was going, which really wasn’t his fault since Ray probably packed it in with fifteen other pieces of information and David could only pay attention for so long. The implications of being snowed in with no power _ with Ray _were utterly horrifying, so David had to concede the situation wasn’t quite as dire as it could be.

“Sure, but,” David said, stepping closer to Patrick and spreading his hands over his shoulders, shoulders he’d know without any light at all, “but it’s getting dark, and it’s also the middle of winter, and no power means no heat. So. What exactly are we doing here?”

Although he couldn’t quite see Patrick’s face in the fading light of the hallway, David knew it well enough by now to know precisely how it looked when Patrick responded, voice all low and fond and close. “We’re going to figure it out, and I’m going to take care of you.” There was a pause, and then Patrick spoke again, suddenly sounding vulnerable and small. “Do you trust me?”

The question carried a lot of weight between them now. It had only been a matter of months since Rachel had come to Schitt’s Creek and made Patrick reckon with the truth he’d been hiding from David. Trust wasn’t a given anymore after that. Bit by bit, they worked on rebuilding: a thousand tiny showings that Patrick was in this, that David could rely on him. When Patrick had finally told David he loved him, David believed him. And now as David stood in the growing darkness, he realized he felt safe. “I trust you,” he whispered back.

***

By the time David finished his shortened skin care routine and made his way downstairs - clutching the candle Patrick had lit for him and wearing borrowed sweatpants, socks, and a sweatshirt - Patrick had completely rearranged Ray's "entertainment room." David had initially been appalled to find out Ray had given the moniker to a room that definitely wasn’t used for entertaining, but it _ did _have a fireplace. The temperature had steadily dropped in the house over the past hour, so this room was appointed Snowstorm Headquarters. The coffee table that used to sit in the middle of the room was now housed against the back wall, and the couch was closer now to the fireplace and covered with 4 extra blankets.

The fire was already built and crackling when David entered, and he mourned a little bit the chance to see his Boy Scout boyfriend in action. However, it did mean the room was already warm and glowing, and that Patrick was free to wrap an arm around David on the couch and pull a blanket over both of them. So, not a total loss. In fact, things felt about as close to idyllic as they could given this was still Ray’s house. Firelight shimmered and danced on the walls, and several contented minutes passed with David pressed against Patrick’s side, both of them lost in thought as they watched the fire. 

“Did you and your family ever do things together?” Patrick’s voice broke the spell, and David turned to him, a bit taken aback by the suddenness of the question. “I mean, when you were a kid. Trips or family traditions or anything like that?” 

David sensed that more was lurking underneath Patrick’s words and decided to pursue it. Every little layer of Patrick he got to see felt like an affirmation that this was real, that Patrick wanted to be known and seen and understood in the same way David did. That this was what _ ‘I love you’ _really meant. “Why? Does this remind you of something you did with your family?” David asked softly, following the way the fire turned Patrick’s eyes to caramel and made his lips look impossibly soft. 

Patrick’s face gave away that he knew David was deflecting, but he shrugged and nodded, looking back at the fire. “Yeah. We camped with my grandparents a lot when I was pretty young, my family and my aunts and uncles and cousins. My grandparents had this giant RV when they started getting older and the adults would sleep in there while all the cousins slept outside. We used to sit around the fire and get as deep as a bunch of teens and preteens could get.” Patrick’s voice sounded fond and far away, and David settled in closer, looking at the fire and trying to imagine it. “There was a campground about an hour away from where I grew up, and we’d spend almost the whole summer there. I met so many kids that way, we’d become best friends for a few weeks and then I’d never see them again.” He paused, apparently lost in his own memory. “Knowing I’d be there again in the summer made the school year bearable for me, actually. I think that’s still probably my favorite place in the world. All those nights by the fire. I guess this just reminded me of that.”

The earnestness practically oozed out of Patrick, and David found himself wishing he had something he could say in response with equal feeling. “So you feel like you’re by the fire with your cousin right now, is that what I’m getting?” is what came out instead. Patrick barked out a laugh and shoved David’s shoulder. “That’s...really nice, though. That you have that.” He shifted, turning slightly away so he could push his back into Patrick’s chest. Getting the idea, Patrick readjusted so his back was against the arm of the couch and David could recline against him. In the months they’d been together, David knew Patrick had learned some things were easier for David to say without looking at him. Once they were comfortably fit together, David pulled Patrick’s hand in front of him and methodically started to massage each finger. “I guess we must have spent time together when I was a kid,” David started, his voice betraying him immediately. “But I don’t remember much of it. Most of what I remember is Alexis playing in my room while Adelina told us stories. I don’t...I don’t really think I have any memories like yours.”

Patrick’s free hand came up to rub David’s shoulder and arm, and his voice was soft by his ear. “I think those memories count, David,” Patrick murmured. “Adelina and Alexis, they _ are _family.” The words somehow made David ache even deeper in his chest. He didn’t want that to be the memory that he shared on a cozy snowed-in night. He wanted an anecdote to share like Patrick’s, about how he had something to look forward to with his family as a kid, not about how he never knew if his parents would be home when he wandered to the kitchen to ask the chef for dinner. Not about how he’d walked in on his mother passed out on the stairs more than once and cried at her feet until his father found them. Not about how before Eli and Schitt’s Creek, he couldn’t remember a single time in the past decade they’d all been together under happy circumstances. 

“We did have the Christmas party every year,” David said, trying to staunch the emotions threatening to flow over his entire being. Levity was good, levity was safe. “Those were always quite the event.”

Patrick laughed behind him. “Ah, yes. The famous Number.” He got quiet and then his hand stopped its movements on David’s shoulder. “David, you know it’s okay if you don’t have traditions. You can make new ones. Look at you and your family now; you’ve all grown so much closer here.”

The words were true, but something about Patrick trying to placate him sent a frisson of annoyance through David and he dropped Patrick’s hand. “Yeah, now that I’m in my 30s and my formative years are long over,” he snipped back, immediately regretting it but somehow feeling gratified too. “I didn’t have the perfect childhood or the fucking family bonfires, and there is literally nothing about my newfound ‘family bond’ or whatever that is going to give those back to me.” He was glad again to be facing away from Patrick as embarrassed heat flooded his cheeks. None of this was Patrick’s fault. Patrick had gone quiet behind him, a little stiff, but hadn’t pushed David out of his arms or made any move to dislodge him. Sighing heavily, David leaned back further and resumed his gentle strokes on Patrick’s hand. “I didn’t mean...I’m really glad for how things are with my family now. And I’m happy you have these positive memories with your family. It’s just,” David paused, groping for the right way to express himself. “I guess I didn’t realize I could have that? I just thought my family was the way we were, end of story. But now, I miss what could have been more because I know what it’s like to be close to them. Like, unbearably close sometimes.”

The slow rub of Patrick's hand on his shoulder resumed. Patrick was still quiet. The minutes stretched and crackled with the fire until Patrick finally spoke again. “Your parents can’t change the way your family used to be, but they’re here now. And they love you. And I can’t make your past better, but I’m here now, and I love you too.” _ He loves me. _The words spread through David like warm sunlight, the way they always did. 

“Thank you,” David whispered, and smiled at the light brush of Patrick’s lips against his ear. “You’re making things good right now.” And it was true. David wouldn’t have fathomed being in a situation where he actually felt _ okay _ and _ safe _ and _ happy _ with no power in the middle of a snowstorm. 

***

"You have got to be kidding me! You, with all your games nights? Never?"

The light from the fireplace rippled over Patrick's incredulous face as he turned to David. Using one of the flashlights Patrick kept under his bed, they were standing in front of a large chest examining the bewildering array of games Ray had collected over the years. Sitting in front of the fireplace had been nice, but they'd both gotten restless after about an hour, and since a movie night was out, they'd improvised.

David shrugged and tried to push off the defensiveness. "Jenga was never a serious option! The sets at bars were always incomplete or grimy or I was too drunk or high to play something that needed coordination."

"Huh," Patrick replied. In the pause that followed, David considered scrapping the game idea altogether, thinking maybe one-on-one gameplay might not be a wise relationship move. But Patrick had already grabbed the box and was moving to the middle of the room. He'd rearranged things again so the coffee table was in front of the fireplace, and took a seat on one side, gesturing for David to sit opposite him. As he stacked the little wooden rectangles, David cautiously sat on the floor across from him.

“So, we just pull out the blocks and stack them on top, right?” This seemed a bit...basic. “What exactly is the point here?”

“The point, David,” Patrick replied as he carefully finished the top of the tower, “is to build the tower as tall as possible without it falling. It’s just for fun.”

“Right, except we’re pitted against each other in this scenario, and the only time I’ve built something that hasn’t fallen apart was working _ with _ you.” Maybe it was the dim lighting or the way the cold air had turned Patrick’s nose red, but the words just slipped out before David could think to guard them against his chest. Patrick looked up immediately, an impossibly gentle look on his kind face. David pushed on. “You know, with the store. And. With us. The metaphor of this game feels a little too on the nose?”

“It’s just a game, David.” Patrick sounded too tender, too soft. “You aren’t tempting fate by building a tower that might fall over. Hey,” he said, reaching out across the table. After a beat David reached back and took his hand. “I love you.”

Patrick had started doing this. This thing, where he could see right past what David was saying to what he actually meant, and then breathe out the reassurance David had secretly been asking for. He squeezed Patrick's hand. "I love you. Now let's do this."

It turned out David was rather skilled at Jenga, which he could tell was irritating Patrick. Every time David moved an impossible piece without disaster, Patrick would make this soft hum in the back of his throat before steepling his fingers and taking far too long to make a decision for his next move. After one particularly risky block was relocated by David, Patrick grunted and closed his eyes, very clearly trying not to say anything. David couldn’t help himself. “I mean, are you _ really _that surprised that I’m good at this? You know better than anyone how talented I am with my fingers.” Patrick’s eyes flew open and his face sort of stopped, buffering as it often did.

“That...is a really dirty trick,” Patrick finally said. He lifted a shaky hand toward the perilously tall tower and then brought it back toward himself, his eyes darting to David and then away. 

David grinned. “Have I distracted you with talk of my dexterous, precise fingers?” He watched as Patrick closed his eyes and took a breath, and then David spoke again as Patrick reached out to a block. “Maybe if you win, I’ll remind you what else my fingers can do.”

Patrick’s hand froze. “David,” he said, and David fucking _ loved _that tone, loved the warning in Patrick’s voice. God, he wanted to hear all the iterations of his name in Patrick's mouth. "You're cheating."

"Unfounded accusation!" David grinned even as he tried to sound offended. "I'm simply reminding you that it stands to reason I'd be good at this since I can take you apart with three fingers and nothing else."

_ "Fuck," _Patrick spat out. He stood abruptly, shaking the table and knocking the precarious stack of blocks down for good. In two steps he was next to David, harshly pulling him up. David's mouth opened to make a comment about winning the game, but Patrick effectively shut him up by pushing his tongue between David's lips. He thrust it in and out as his hands slid around David's lower back to grip his ass, dragging their groins together as he continued his steady fucking of David's mouth.

Just as David's fingers dipped under Patrick's hoodie, a log on the fire snapped and collapsed, making them both jump from the loud crash. Patrick laughed and dropped his forehead to David's shoulder. "Okay, so. Jenga is a no go," Patrick murmured as he moved his head back up, nosing along the column of David's throat. 

"Why's that?" David asked with a slight smile.

"Your fingers." Patrick reached around and grabbed one of David's hands and pulled it up until two of David's fingers rested against his lips. With his eyes locked on David's, he leaned in to trap them between both of their mouths. Slowly enough to send tingles down David's spine, Patrick's tongue slipped between the fingers to press against David's lips. Fuck, how did Patrick manage to do that? When David's eyes automatically fell closed, Patrick pulled back enough to whisper "eyes open" and then moved back in, licking between the fingers at David's mouth. It was almost painful, the intimacy, the _ seeing. _But David reminded himself for the fourteenth or fiftieth or thousandth time, he wanted this. Wanted to be seen, to be watched, and to be wanted in spite of it.

Patrick kept up his precise unraveling of every nerve in David's body, his hands sliding up David's sides and then scratching blunt fingernails down the sensitive skin. He shifted their bodies so his groin was pressed against David's hip, and he started a slow rolling motion that let David feel even through their thick clothes that he wasn't alone in wanting this, all of this. With eyes still fixed on Patrick, David whimpered low in his throat and watched the way Patrick's eyelids fluttered, felt the way Patrick's hips picked up speed. Testing the waters, David moved the two fingers between their lips just slightly, sliding them up and down and was rewarded when Patrick angled his head to pull the fingers into his mouth, going all the way to David's knuckles. Keeping his voice soft, David spoke. "See, told you I can take you apart with my fingers."

Patrick's eyes half-closed as he let David's fingers drop free. For a second, David just waited and watched, loving this man so goddamn much it felt like he might shake apart with it. Then Patrick grabbed his hand and pulled him toward the couch, sitting down next to him and leaning in for a lingering kiss. Another log crackled and fell in the fireplace, and Patrick groaned before standing. "I need to put more wood on the fire, and yes, I know how that sounds." 

As Patrick bent down to get another log, his hoodie rode up just enough to show a small sliver of his lower back, almost glowing in the dim lighting. Carefully, quietly, David slid off the couch and moved toward Patrick, kneeling behind him so he could drag his lips across the exposed skin. Patrick let out a small sigh and arched forward as he positioned the log, and then stayed there as David turned his head so he could slide his stubbled cheek along the sensitive skin just above Patrick's waistband. "David," came a needy whine.

"I know, c'mere," David murmured, standing again to pull Patrick back to the couch. They spent what could have been seconds or minutes standing there, kissing each other hungrily as the fire grew again. Finally David pulled back and smiled, resting his forehead against Patrick's. "If we're gonna do this here," he whispered, gesturing to the couch, "we need a towel or something." 

Patrick breathed a laugh against his lips and kissed him again, and then once more, before releasing him, grabbing a flashlight, and walking toward the stairs. "I'm on it. Go pour us some wine."

When Patrick returned with lube, condom, and towel in hand, David was waiting by the couch with two glasses. "Hi there," David said, the words barely audible as Patrick closed the distance with firelight sparkling in his eyes. 

Patrick dropped his supplies onto the couch, took the glasses from David and set them on the table, and then took David's face in his hands. "Hi," he responded, every feature on his face gone soft and fond. "I'm glad I'm snowed in with you, David. I like getting to be with you, like this." 

_ I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you _

Blinking rapidly, David tried to hold Patrick's sincere gaze. It had taken David a while to learn that he wasn't the only one who liked to hide. Patrick had hidden his problems, literally had run away from them. And had kept them hidden from David. In a way, it almost came as a relief to find out that David and Patrick shared that trait. Now, David didn't want to hide. So he kept his eyes open, watching Patrick watch him. "I'm not thrilled to be snowed in with no power," David started, loving the tiny downward smile it prompted, "but if I had to be snowed in with anyone, I'm glad it's you, too." 

It looked like Patrick might make some more heartfelt declarations, so David leaned in and kissed him before he could speak. The wine on the table was quickly forgotten as Patrick slipped out of his warm layers and David laid the towel out on the couch. David slowly pushed Patrick to sit and then knelt in front of him, nibbling and licking up the inside of his thigh. The quiet familiarity of that patch of skin anchored David. Even only in firelight, even in the middle of a snowstorm, even blind David would know this path. Gently as he moved his lips and teeth and tongue over him, David coaxed Patrick to shift to give him room. When he reached the crease of Patrick’s thigh, he licked down underneath his balls, sliding his tongue between his cheeks and listening for the sigh of recognition, the sound Patrick always made when David made it to his destination. From there, the dance was well-practiced: a series of fluid motions until Patrick’s hips were pulled forward and his legs pushed up so David could press his tongue inside and draw out the beautiful sounds that Patrick had only ever made for him. Pride flared up in David as he thought about it, coupled with a tender recognition of how profoundly privileged he was to have Patrick’s love and trust. All introspection quickly melted when Patrick’s hand wound itself in David’s hair, pulling him tighter against his hole. His voice had gone higher, and David channeled everything into the point of his tongue, the jabs inside and the flat presses against him. 

Once Patrick was making desperate greedy thrusts back against David’s tongue, David pulled back and kissed the inside of his thigh while he felt around for the lube Patrick had brought down. He coated his fingers and slowly worked in one while Patrick mewled his appreciation. Patrick was so perfect like this, open and vulnerable and wanting. The second finger drew a groan, and the third a gasping plea. David angled his wrist so his fingers could brush Patrick’s prostate and the answering cry had David’s free hand pushing inside his sweats to grasp his own aching cock. Keeping three fingers buried inside him, David moved up from the floor and leaned over Patrick, capturing his mouth and licking into it while his fingers continued to work him open. Finally Patrick was squirming too much to keep the kiss going and David stood and removed his fingers to push down his sweats and underwear. He was about to peel off the borrowed sweater when Patrick reached up and tugged on the hem. 

“Could you...could you keep it on?” Patrick’s eyes were a bit glassy, but David recognized the heat underneath. The idea of fucking Patrick while wearing his sweater, a bit too big for either of them, faded and soft and loved over the years - David’s pulse spiked. 

“Yeah, yes, definitely.”

The couch really was a bit too small for this, but David drew the line at sex on the floor of Ray’s so-called “entertainment room.” He gently eased Patrick onto his back and positioned himself between his legs, letting his weight rest against Patrick’s chest as he kissed him again, drawing it out until Patrick was shaking beneath him, vibrating against the soft cotton between their hearts. Patrick pressed the condom into David’s hands with a whispered “please,” and David moved deftly to get it open and on. With one hand on Patrick’s chest, he pushed inside on a slow exhale.

“David,” Patrick said, or prayed, or worshiped. The tendons in his neck stood out as Patrick arched his head back, and David needed to feel them under his tongue and teeth. Carefully he shifted to lean forward, driving in another half inch when his lips closed over the juncture of Patrick’s shoulder. The contact flipped a switch in Patrick, and his mouth opened to pour out a string of praises and curses and supplications. David matched the quick words with quick thrusts, whispering his own litany of adoration against Patrick’s skin. 

When Patrick’s heels started digging into David’s thighs, David slowed his thrusts and lifted his head to look down at Patrick’s face bathed in the orange glow of the flickering fire. Each slow roll of his hips seemed to ripple up over Patrick’s features. David loved him. “Do you want to stay like this?” he whispered, keeping the pace deep and slow even as Patrick tried to urge him on.

For a moment Patrick was immobilized by the question. He shook his head and dragged his fingernails up under the sweater, scratching across David’s sides and back. “Hands and knees, we can do hands and knees.” Even as he spoke, his legs tightened around David’s, and David laughed and gave a few hard thrusts.

“I can’t - fuck - move if you’re wrapped around me,” David panted, quickening the pace again when Patrick didn’t let him pull out. “God Patrick, you look so good like this,” he said in a whisper before dropping to kiss Patrick messily, his hips never stopping. Patrick nodded and whined as he tried to kiss David back. Once again David tried to maneuver but Patrick held him steady under the sweater, keeping him where he was.

“Stay, stay,” Patrick begged. David nodded and slid his arms under Patrick’s back so they were completely pressed together. He could feel Patrick’s cock rubbing against the fabric of the sweater, and perversely felt relieved he wasn’t wearing his own clothes. Patrick drew him back to the moment by bucking up and grinding hard. “David, fuck, David, David, _ fuck, _I’m -” David took a breath and fucked Patrick in earnest, snapping his hips over and over until Patrick closed his eyes and tightened around him as he came all over his own sweater. 

“That’s it, fuck Patrick, so fucking _ tight, _ god,” David said as he fucked Patrick through it. “Look at me,” he whispered. Patrick had on his signature heart eyes when they opened, and David felt _ seen _again, and that was all it took for him to bite his lip and come in five stuttered thrusts. The fireplace sounded louder as David’s breathing slowed, and he dropped his head to Patrick’s chest to listen to his heartbeat instead. Patrick's hands gently carded through David's hair, down his neck, over the fabric at his shoulders. David thought Patrick might be whispering something, but it was drowned out by the thrum of his heart and the steady crackling from the fire.

As much as David wanted to lie there for hours, he knew Patrick's thighs would be aching soon and the come on his sweater was starting to dry and stiffen. He sighed heavily and kissed Patrick's collarbone before pushing himself up. "Shh, stay there," he murmured when Patrick tried to follow him. Grabbing a flashlight, David went to the kitchen to dispose of his condom. He fetched a washcloth that was still a bit damp before returning and wiping Patrick's stomach, his thighs, his hole, leaving a kiss over each newly washed bit of skin. When he finished, he stood and peeled the sweater off, examining the front and grimacing a bit before shooting Patrick an apologetic look. "You came a _ lot _on this poor garment."

Patrick laughed and stretched out on the couch, his feet bumping the armrest. David drank in the sight of Patrick's soft frame on display, every muscle and sinew highlighted in glowing firelight and severe shadows. He was utterly exquisite. Something deep in David's chest ached and constricted the way it still sometimes did when he was hit by how much he _ loved _this man.

Once the towel was wadded up and tossed into the corner with Patrick's defiled sweater, both men pulled on their underwear and sweats and arranged themselves together under two thick blankets. Patrick wasn't thrilled about sleeping with the fire going, but David was immovable in his desire to not sleep in utter darkness. David also may have deployed his best deep, raspy voice when he asked Patrick to leave the fire lit, but that was neither here nor there.

Unsurprisingly, getting reasonably comfortable took several tries, and after a few false starts they ended up spooning, David's back pressed against the couch with Patrick pushing against him from shoulder to ankle. With whispers and giggles and teasing voices they drifted toward sleep together, and David's last thought before everything went warm and dark was how if he played his cards right, he might get to keep this forever.

David's next conscious thought was that aliens were there to abduct him. Everything was too bright, too close. In a panic David jerked awake and heard a loud thunk and a wounded cry. Blinking the world into focus, David realized the power had just come back and all the lights that had been turned on when it went out were now shining with full force. The wounded cry had come from Patrick, who David had accidentally pushed onto the floor. Patrick's eyes were blurry and his face was half-red and imprinted from where he'd been resting it on his hand as he gave David an accusatory look.

"Y'pushed me," he said, voice somehow roughened and softened by sleep. 

David tried to stifle a laugh as he sat up, feeling the adrenaline kick in even as he told himself he was _ not _in fact being abducted by aliens. He slid to the floor and pulled Patrick close as he kissed his temple in apology. "The lights," he croaked. "Need to turn off the lights."

It took exactly two minutes for them to turn off the lights and curl up together in Patrick's bed, holding each other a little tighter than necessary. The sun wouldn't rise for a few more hours, revealing that the snow was too high for them to leave the house. For now, nothing mattered but the warm breath against David's shoulder as Patrick slipped back to sleep.

**Author's Note:**

> find me on tumblr @thedidipickles and twitter @didipickles2


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